


give me two damn minutes (and i'll be fine)

by TaytheBae



Series: Because I Need You (In My Pocket) [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Angst, Fairy!AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Relationship, Steve is a fairy, Steve's dad was terrible, Verbal Abuse, but billy is there to comfort him, not quite a song fic, there are lyrics sprinkled in there though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23119537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaytheBae/pseuds/TaytheBae
Summary: He grabs a glass out of the cupboard and begins to fill it up in the sink when he hears a quiet, “Billy?”He spins around, water sloshing out of the cup in his hand and onto the floor at his feet, only to find a small figure sitting on his counter behind him.“Jesus, make some damn noise would ya?” He snaps, irritation at his lack of sleep and reoccurring nightmares bubbling up.Steve’s small form seems to shrink even further as he folds his translucent, green wings behind him and looks down at his lap, hands fidgety and restless. He says an equally meek sorry, barely audible.-OR-Steve opens up about his past, and Billy provides some comfort.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: Because I Need You (In My Pocket) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656328
Comments: 11
Kudos: 106





	give me two damn minutes (and i'll be fine)

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh, i'm sorry. This got real sad. Steve's dad is an asshole, just in a different way to Billy's.  
> Also, I might come back and include Billy telling Steve about his backstory, but it's pretty similar to the canon story, and I need to not write any more big angst rn, sorry.
> 
> Title and lyrics from Two Minutes by The Amazing Devils (sorry if the lyrics are distracting in the story, but they were just too perfect to not include. if. you haven't heard of them, PLEASE go listen to this song [here](https://youtu.be/kV0oAYXXKX4) it's 100% Billy and Steve)

_“It’s like all the wallpaper inside my heart  
Is slowly slowly peeling off  
And I’m showing  
All the stains and things  
They wrote on the wall before”_

_-_

Billy looked at his alarm clock for the fifth time in what was apparently half an hour, but felt much closer to four hours. He glared at the glowing red digits proclaiming it was 1:30 AM. As they remained unchanging in the face of his exhausted agitation, he sighed and rolled over, trying to fall asleep again. He closed his eyes, but the only thing waiting for him were flashes of fists and a hissed voice of ‘useless queer.’

Once he found himself rolling over to look at the clock again, and saw that it had only been 5 minutes, he decided to give up and got up to get a glass of water. He snuck down the short hallway, soft footsteps practically silent in the hushed darkness of night. He gave a wide berth around the window where they had set up Steve’s _bednestweavedpileofgrassandflowers_ sleeping arrangements, hoping not to disturb him. He avoids turning on the overhead florescent, opting instead to flip on the small light above the stove, giving off just enough light to see in the small kitchen.

He grabs a glass out of the cupboard and begins to fill it up in the sink when he hears a quiet, “Billy?”

He spins around, water _sloshing_ out of the cup in his hand and onto the floor at his feet, only to find a small figure sitting on his counter behind him.

“Jesus, make some damn noise would ya?” He snaps, irritation at his lack of sleep and reoccurring nightmares bubbling up.

Steve’s small form seems to shrink even further as he folds his translucent, green wings behind him and looks down at his lap, hands fidgety and restless. He says an equally meek _sorry,_ barely audible.

With this show of _submissiondocilitysurrender_ timidness, Billy feels all of the adrenaline drain from his system, leaving all of the parts that were rigid and tense almost _deflated_. He huffs.

“Shit, no. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have barked at you. It’s just a rough night.”

Steve chuckles, but it’s a sad sound, no mirth to be found. “Yeah, I know how that feels.”

Billy raises an eyebrow. Steve hadn’t appeared to be anything but easy-going and happy since they had _capturedtrapped_ found him a month ago. _What could a fairy have to keep him up at night?_

“Well, I guess if we’re both up,” Billy doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he suddenly feels the deep-seated _need_ to get rid of Steve’s melancholy. He clears his throat and tries again. “Would you want to bake some cookies?”

It felt like a stupid request coming out of his mouth, but Billy had noticed since he obtained a magical roommate that Steve had an _insatiable_ sweet tooth. Couldn’t ever seem to get enough sugar, which led to Billy dealing with a wired, borderline manic, fairy zooming around his apartment. It was kind of _cute_ though, so Billy never complained.

Steve perked up at the mention of something sweet, but hesitated before mumbling out a quick, “Yeah give me one sec,” and then shot up off the counter and towards Billy’s bedroom where they had cleared out a drawer for Steve’s human clothes.

He reemerged from the bedroom, now in his human form. Steve was taller than him like this, much to his chagrin and Robin’s endless amusement. He had replaced his tight, brown fae clothing and changed into a pair of soft flannel pants and a white t-shirt, bare feet padding on the kitchen tile as he walked back to where Billy had decided to lean against the counter. Now that he was people-sized, Billy could see the weariness lining his bambi eyes, the red flush of his cheeks as if…

“Have you been crying?” Billy blurted, apparently not having any type of filter at 1:45am.

Steve’s face shuttered, turned almost _maliciousmeanangry_ icy, as he shot out, “Yeah, what about it?”

“Nothing, Jesus. I was just gonna ask if you wanted to talk about it.”

“No.” And with that, the conversation was over. Billy silently began puttering around, fetching ingredients for his mom’s sugar cookie recipe which he had long since memorized. Steve stood in the entryway separating the kitchen from the living room before shaking off whatever had made him so angry, and joining Billy in his silent preparation.

One thing both men had figured out early on in Steve’s residency is that he was _terrible_ in the kitchen. He seemed to get overwhelmed with all of the appliances and ingredients. He had often muttered under his breath about _why do people need four different types of pots?_ Or Billy’s favorite _why are there so many kinds of spices?_ Billy had never laughed so hard at the perturbed face Steve had made when faced with his admittedly large spice rack.

He had also looked positively aghast when Billy mentioned he would make spaghetti and meatballs for dinner one night. “You roll animals into balls and eat them?” He had shrieked, voice pitched at least three octaves higher. That had been a hard conversation, and Billy had learned that whatever he made for dinner needed some sort of vegetarian option available for Steve.

But Billy could be patient, usually. At least, when he could be nice, sometimes. Okay, only when it came to teaching Steve specifically, somehow, Billy had found an endless pool of patience.

So they continued on, silence only broken every once and a while for soft corrections, or gentle affirmations when Steve did something well. Soon enough, they had the first batch of cookies in the oven, and now with nothing left to do but wait, an awkward tension blossomed between them. Billy chewed on the inside of his cheek to stop from blurting out anything else that could bring out ice princess Steve.

The first round of cookies passed with both of them stewing in silence. It wasn’t until the second batch was safely baking away that Steve broke the tension.

“I, um. I really do appreciate you letting me stay here. I don’t think I ever said that.”

Billy was caught off guard by the strange choice of topic, but decided to roll with it.

“Yeah, no problem. Not like you take up a whole lot of space,” he says, gesturing to the small nest perched in the windowsill. That, at least, got a small snort out of Steve.

“Glad you think so.”

“Who wouldn’t think so? Must be fucking blind or something.” There his mouth went again, throwing out words before his brain could process.

Luckily, Steve didn’t shut down this time.

“My,” one of those self-deprecating chuckles escapes again. “My dad, actually. Always complained about how I was always taking up room and not contributing anything.”

“Shit, pretty boy, I- “

“No,” Steve held up a hand. “I-I think I need to get this out. Makes it feel less like some weird dream, you know?”

“Yeah, Steve. Believe me, I know.”

“Okay, um. Let’s grab these cookies out of the oven, and then maybe sit down? It’s kind of a long story.” Steve directed the last part at the tiles on the floor, and he looked so _tragicpatheticlost_ sad that all Billy could think to do was swallow and nod in agreement.

When the timer buzzed, Billy pulled out the cookies, set the tray on top of the stove, and turned the oven off. He then grabbed a plate from the cupboards and put all the cooled cookies from the last batch onto it.

Finally, Steve looked up.

“I have a feeling this is conversation is going to require cookies.”

Steve smiled, even if it was weak.

Once they got settled on the beat-up couch, plate of sugar cookies between them, Billy looked at Steve. Steve looked anywhere but Billy, and started anxiously twisting his hands again.

“You know, you don’t have to do this?” Billy said.

“No I- Right, okay. I guess I should start with who I used to be. Um.” Steve got a far off look in his eyes, and started his story.

-

_“But today we ripped it off, we ripped it off  
_ _We showed the world that we exist  
_ _Never really liked the pattern that much  
_ _on the wallpaper so anyway”_

_-_

_Once upon a time, there was a small kingdom of woodland fairies. They were made up of maybe forty families, and had only existed for about 80 years at this point, forming out of necessity as Humans began to move closer._

_Amongst these families were the Harringtons, a family with a strong bloodline stretching as far back as anyone could seem to remember. They were the obvious choice in ruler, having been known to produce strong, intelligent heirs._

_And so, the kingdom carried on peacefully, hiding away from the humans and continuing to thrive in their secrecy._

_Until Steve Harrington._

_Since birth, Steve had been a busy body, always having to be doing something, always moving. Even when he had to sit still for lessons, he shook his leg or tapped his feet or fluttered his wings, until the tutor got sick of it and kicked him out of class for the day. Every time this happened, he would get a lecture from his father for hours after their family dinner, if King Harrington even deemed it worthy to spend time with his wife and his only heir. It was a well-known fact after all, that King Harrington much preferred the company of the court dames over his arranged wife, whom he had only married to appease his father._

_This went on for years, Steve barely passing any of his tests because when he wasn’t kicked out of class, he was staring off into space, thinking about what could be beyond their little nook in the treetops. But Steve never cared very much about Fae History or diplomacy or court rituals. In all honesty, he loved the days when his tutor would kick him out because he would have the whole day to visit the nursery or go exploring. He never went far, just a little beyond their borders._

_Then came time for Steve to become the crown prince, heir to the throne of their tiny kingdom._

_On the day of his coronation, Steve was surrounded from the moment he woke up. A handful of maids prepping him for his crowning ceremony, only pausing for a light lunch. They cleaned up everything, from his nails to his hair, making sure it would fall right once the intricate floral crown was placed upon it._

_About two hours before the ceremony, King Harrington strode into Steve’s chambers, bidding the maids no further attention beyond a dismissive hand wave. They quickly followed, filing out the door quietly. In a matter of seconds, Steve was left with just his father, who struck an intimidating figure, dressed in his royal robes and his large wooden crown stretched towards the sky, adding at least three inches to his already grand presence._

_Steve knew, before he even saw the dark leer on King Harrington’s face, that this would not be a cheery pep talk._

_“Today is the day Stephen; the day where you become responsible for the kingdom. I honestly never thought I would see the day. I thought you would have snuck off and got caught by a wild animal or stuck in a trap. I was kind of hoping for it too.”_

_-_

_"Sweet nothings  
Are screamed not  
Spoken"_

_-_

“WHAT? What did that motherfucker say to you?”

“Um. That he was hoping I would get eaten by a wild animal? So I wouldn’t have to be his heir?”

“Where is this fucking fairy commune? I’ll fucking tear it down with my bare fucking hands.” Billy was practically panting at this point, not having been this angry since that fateful day that his dad announced they were moving away from California.

Despite the fact that the anger wasn’t aimed at him, Steve still shrunk in the face of such venom. He wasn’t sure how to carry on, not when his story had affected Billy in such an _intenseviolentscary_ emotional way, especially when it was going to only get so much worse.

However, just as before, when Billy saw the way Steve’s whole body shrunk, and he seemed to almost vibrate with tension, all of the rage drained out of him immediately, leaving him cold and shocked.

“Shit, I’m sorry Steve. I didn’t mean to make you scared. Come here.” Billy held his arms open.

Steve sniffled _shit when had he started crying?_ and nearly leaped across the space, having always been one for physical comfort. It sent the empty plate that used to hold cookies clattering to the floor. Billy grunted at the force with which this tall, gangly body launched itself at him, but quickly adjusted his position so that Steve was able to straddle him and tuck his face into the crook where Billy’s neck met his shoulder and openly grieve what had become of him.

This was the first time Billy had offered to touch Steve, let alone hold him through his tears, but Steve was immediately addicted. Not only did he radiate a sunny warmth, but the smell of _sugarcigarettesmotoroil_ Billy was soothing, grounding. Slowly his tears dried, and his breathing returned to normal. Once Steve was able to match Billy’s steady pattern of _inandout,_ he pulled his face back and looked at the boy who’s lap he was sitting in. He studied the crystalline blue eyes and the light smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Hours seemed to pass like that, Steve studying his face and Billy staring back with equal intensity.

“Can I braid your hair?” It was now Steve’s turn to blurt out without thinking about it.

“Um, sure. I don’t really have much in that department, but I think I have a few extra hair ties and a comb in the bathroom.” He said, not making any move to push Steve off his lap. But, now that Steve had thought about it, the idea was stuck in his head, hands itching to move in a familiar pattern of weaving locks into intricate designs. He used to do this to the older girls at the nursery, eventually becoming an oft requested hair stylist.

So, he scrambled off Billy’s lap, missing the warmth but eager to get his fingers in Billy’s gorgeous golden curls. Billy heaved himself off the couch, and disappeared into the small bathroom. Soon, he returned with two simple black hair ties and a wide toothed comb. He deposited them on the couch cushion next to Steve, and sat down on the floor in front of him.

Once Steve had combed out Billy’s hair, and began to part it for a simple French braid, he started his story again. It was easier to find the words when Billy wasn’t facing him.

_-_

_"I can hear the children calling  
If I'm good will you come back?_

_-_

_Steve thinks if there was more venom, more passion behind King Harrington’s words, maybe he could handle it, maybe it would be better, maybemaybemaybe it would show that his father cared about his life, even in a macabre way, but still it would be an interest that’s never been there._

_But all there is sterile disinterest. As if he were discussing an unwanted rain shower. He just didn’t care._

_Unsure how to react when faced with such coldness, Steve sat silently and bit his cheek to stifle the desire to cry. It would only bring out cruel laughter and comments of Steve being weak and too feminine to be a good king, his tears earning the same treatment since he was six and ‘too damn old to be coddled.’_

_King Harrington gave him one final glance, shook his head, and walked out just as he had walked in, the wooden door slamming behind him._

_A couple minutes after he left, the maids shuffled back in, and Steve finished getting ready in silence._

_Ten minutes before the ceremony was to begin, Steve’s mother slipped through his door. The maids had all left by this point, and Steve was simply sitting on a stool, staring off into space. He didn’t even realize that his mother had snuck in until she kneeled down in front of him. She grabbed his hands, which he had been unconsciously twisting so hard the knuckles were bright red, and clicked her tongue as she began to sooth the irritated skin with small, gentle circles._

_“Oh honey, it’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”_

_Steve’s head shot up at that, and her stared into his mother’s eyes as he croaked, “Did you know? That he hoped I would die before today?”_

_Her expression was answer enough, and tension stretched out between them until it felt like he couldn’t even see the woman who would comb his hair back and sung him to sleep and helped him fly for the first time. This woman was a stranger, silent in the face of her son’s despair._

_A knock at the door sounded like gunshots in the silence, but before they could move, his mother leaned in and whispered in his ear._

_“You will never be your father.”_

_And with that last dagger to his heart, Steve was finished. He retreated deep into his mind, body entirely on autopilot as he was led to the doors of the grand hall, where he would walk down the aisle in front of the entire court, recite his oath, and become the crown prince. It should have been easy._

_As the guard prepared to open the doors, Steve tried to come back into his body and be present, but all he felt was a bone deep ache and the daggers still sunk into his heart, so he retreated again._

_The doors opened to a large room, sunlight filtering in through the gaps in the weaved wall and delicate flower bouquets hanging from the thatched roof. It was crowded with every member of the court in the room, and yet not claustrophobic, and a light spring breeze flowed through, rocking the flower bouquets gently._

_All eyes immediately turned to him when the grand doors squeaked open, but Steve couldn’t find it in him to care. He only had eyes for King Harrington, standing at the other end of the aisle, looking as apathetic as he had when he told Steve he should have been eaten. And suddenly the haze was gone, everything looking so much sharper in comparison. Steve could see the dust moats floating in the sunlight, the petals on the flowers above him, the slight pull of King Harrington’s eyebrows as they scrunched together in irritation._

_Right, Steve was supposed to walk forward now._

_Every step felt like wading through water, but all too soon, he was in front of the king. He felt a strong hand push on his shoulder, and he knelt down in front of the king. He looked up, and he could see King Harrinton’s mouth move, knew there were words coming out words that he needed to answer, but he couldn’t make out what those words were. It was all garbled together._

_Why hadn’t he payed attention to his tutor? They probably went over this at some point. Shit._

_Before Steve can figure out how to get his ears to work again, King Harrington’s mouth stops moving. It was Steve’s turn to speak. He took a shot in the dark and said_

_“I do.”_

_Which was apparently the worst thing to say. The king’s face turns bright red, scrunched up in a terrifying fashion, and spit sprays Steve’s face and he can finally hear, just in time to listen to the King’s booming voice._

_“You brain dead half breed. I should have switched you out at birth. This? this is the last straw.” The king leaned in close, made sure to speak slowly, as if Steve were actually brain dead._

_“Get out. Leave and never darken my kingdom with your stupidity again.” Steve stood up so fast he felt the blood rush from his head, and unsteadily ran out of the room, out of the largest thatch hut, leapt off the edge, and flew away into the forest, unsure of where he was going or what was going to happen to him, but at that moment, he didn’t care just needed to finally listen to his body and go._

_He only stopped when he couldn’t see through the tears, landed in a soft patch of grass, and sobbed harder than he ever had before. Mourns for his sweet mother who seemed to have disappeared when he needed her most, mourns for his home the only place he’s ever known, and mourns the man he will never be._

_“You will never be your father.”  
_

_-_

“ _We’ve left all the blinking lights and  
_ _shouting behind us now and I’ll stare at you  
_ _As you stare as you stare right back at the sky”_

_-_

“She’s fucking right about that.” Billy snarls. “You don’t have a fucking mean bone in your body Pretty Boy.”

“I don’t think that’s what she meant, but thanks.” Steve can’t remember when he had stopped braiding Billy’s hair, leaving it in an intricate waterfall braid. But now, they were face to face, Billy sitting up on his knees as he stares directly in to Steve’s eyes, as if that will make his message stick in Steve’s head as he says

“You are not your father.” It hurts so much less when it’s Billy, and Steve’s surrounded by this apartment he’s come to call home, a place where he feels more himself than he ever did in the small thatch huts deep in the forest.

“Th-Thanks, I guess,” he stammers, and rips his gaze away from the man in front of him. He looks at the window, and notices the light beginning to shine through. Somehow, they had talked, or rather Steve had talked and Billy listened, all night. As if that reminder awoke something in Steve, he yawned big and loud, directly in Billy’s face.

“Okay, I think it’s time to sleep. Come on Pretty Boy, let’s go to bed.” But rather than leaving Steve to shift to his fae form and curl up by himself in his small nest, Billy takes him by the hand and leads him to the bedroom.

They both climb into his bed, wrap up in each other’s warm embrace, and drift off.

Before Steve reaches true unconsciousness though, he hears Billy whisper

“Remind me some time to tell you about my own piece of shit. Could be a nice bonding experience.”

_“If there was one place I could be right now  
I'd be standing between you and him."_

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to rant and scream in the comments, or come find me on [tumblr](https://harringrovetrashh.tumblr.com/).


End file.
